


Office Christmas Party

by eternaleponine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: All I want for Christmas is you, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Party, Clexmas (The 100), Clexmas 2020, Clexmas20, Day 1, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Free day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Ever since she started a new job, Clarke has used her girlfriend with unusual work hours as an excuse to get out of socializing with her coworkers.  The only problem?  The girlfriend doesn't exist, and the office Christmas party is coming up.  What is a girl to do?Based onthis post.For Clexmas 2020 - Day 1: All I Want for Christmas is You (Free Day)
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 57
Kudos: 410





	Office Christmas Party

**Clarke:** How much do you love me?

 **Octavia:** ... What did you do?

 **Octavia:** Because you know I am your ride or die if you ever need help making a body disappear, but I get the feeling that ain't what's going on

 **Clarke:** You know how I lowkey can't stand some of my coworkers?

 **Octavia:** Yeah

 **Clarke:** And how I'm borderline antisocial?

 **Octavia:** Borderline?

Clarke scowled, even though Octavia couldn't see it. She was social! ... with people she liked, anyway. It was just happened that the Venn diagram of People She Liked and People She Worked With were two circles that didn't intersect. They weren't even really on the same page. 

**Clarke:** ANYWAY

 **Clarke:** They keep asking me to go out with them for drinks or whatever after work and I keep making excuses about why I can't go

 **Octavia:** What does any of this have to do with me?

 **Clarke:** I'm getting there!

 **Clarke:** So my go-to excuse to get out of things is my girlfriend with unusual work hours. Like, 'Sorry, can't, need to get home because the only time I see her is for a couple of hours after work before she goes in for the night shift 🤷🏼'

 **Octavia:** You don't have a gf

 **Clarke:** EXACTLY

 **Clarke:** So... 

**Clarke:** Will you come to my company Christmas party with me and pretend to be my girlfriend?

Three dots popped up on Clarke's screen, then disappeared, then reappeared, then disappeared, and Clarke was about ready to throw her phone, or maybe actually dial Octavia's number and have this ridiculously stupid and awkward conversation out loud when a message finally popped up.

 **Octavia:** 😂😂😂😂😂

 **Octavia:** Only you, Griffin. Only you. 

**Octavia:** Well, you and half a dozen people in Hallmark Christmas movies. But in real life... only you.

 **Octavia:** Why not just say she can't make it? Unusual work hours and all.

That... hadn't even occurred to Clarke, if she was being honest. Which she definitely wasn't going to be. Because the truth was she didn't particularly want to go to the party at all. It wasn't mandatory, but it wouldn't look good if she skipped out, and while she wasn't crazy about her coworkers, she did like the job itself, and she would like to stay in the good graces of the Powers That Be as much as possible. At least if she had someone she actually liked with her it would be a little more tolerable.

She tried to sweeten the deal.

 **Clarke:** I'll give you a Starbucks gift card

Which had been sitting in her desk drawer since her birthday, when it had been gifted to her by one of her coworkers despite the fact that she had never once shown up to work with a Starbucks cup in hand. She was a Dunkin Donuts girl, born and raised, and switching coffee sources was like switching sports team loyalties: you just didn't do it.

 **Octavia:** Lincoln's dad is a VP in IT. He will 100% be there, and he will 100% recognize me, and I am NOT dealing with the looks – or worse, questions – when we go to their house for Christmas. 

Shit. Clarke had forgotten about that. 

**Clarke:** It's like you don't want our fake dating AU to succeed.

Because if she didn't laugh, she might cry. 

**Octavia:** You have other friends! Can't one of them do it?

 **Clarke:** You're my only straight friend. I need insurance we won't fall in love at the end.

 **Octavia:** What about Raven? Ask her!

 **Clarke:** Raven isn't straight. She thought she was, but then she dumped Finn and her blinders dropped away and she realized... GIRLS.

 **Octavia:** 😂

 **Octavia:** But you won't fall in love with her! 

**Clarke:** No, but... 

But it would be weird. She and Raven were friends now, but not the kind of friends that fake dated each other. Even if it was just for one night. 

**Octavia:** You really are a living Hallmark movie, Griffin. 

Clarke sighed. Maybe she was, except for the part where those always had happy endings, and it was looking more and more like this wasn't going to. 

**Octavia:** I know! You can put up an ad on Craiglist! 

The next thing Clarke knew, her phone was ringing, and even though it was literally in her hand and Octavia's face popped up on her screen, she still jumped, and had to wait a second for her heart to restart before answering it. 

"It'll be great!" Octavia said. "Single White Female Seeking Fake Girlfriend for Office Christmas Party. Straight Girls Preferred, Bicurious okay but will be considered with caution. No Falling In Love Allowed."

Clarke snorted. "I'm not putting an ad on Craigslist," she said. "And here I thought we were friends. Now you're trying to get me murdered. On Christmas!" 

"You won't get murdered," Octavia said. "Statistically speaking—"

"Don't," Clarke said. "I don't want to know how likely – or unlikely – it is for a woman to kill another woman. It could always be a man pretending to be a woman, then when she – he – shows up—"

"You're getting paranoid in your old age," Octavia teased. "Come on. It can't hurt, and if you're so determined to have a fake date for your party, it might be your only chance."

Clarke sighed. The odds probably were in her favor that putting up an ad wouldn't get her killed. It might get a few pervs soliciting a threesome, and almost certainly some scammers, but it might also be the answer to the problem she'd created for herself. Hell, she might even make a new friend, and all jokes (that weren't really jokes) about her being antisocial aside, she was willing to admit it wouldn't suck to have a few more of those.

"Fine," she said. "Let's do it."

* * *

"Bad news," Clarke said, crashing into her seat across the booth from Lincoln and Octavia, her peppermint mocha cupped between her palms. She took a sip, then wiped a spot of whipped cream (she wasn't sure if the barista had been flirting with her, or was just really generous with the whipped cream with everyone) from her nose. 

"What now?" Octavia asked, not bothering to move from where she'd wedged herself under Lincoln's arm. She claimed it was to conserve body heat, and Clarke couldn't really blame her there. They'd spent the morning wandering up and down row after row of conifers, searching for the perfect Christmas tree for Lincoln and Octavia's new apartment. They'd finally found it... at the exact same time another couple spotted it, and there had been an epic stare-down to see who would win out. Luckily Octavia could be terrifying when she wanted to be, and the other couple had moved on after a few tense moments. 

"Craigslist flagged my ad as inappropriate," Clarke said. "I guess you can't solicit a date as a 'gig'." 

"Did you get any takers?" Octavia asked. "Before they flagged it?"

Clarke shook her head. "No one serious." 

"Bummer," Octavia said. "Back to the drawing board, I guess." 

"Or you could... tell the truth?" Lincoln suggested. 

Both girls looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "How's that going to look?" Octavia asked. "Admitting she's been lying to them this whole time? No, definitely don't tell them the truth." She lit up. "You could always say she broke up with you."

"Don't look so gleeful," Clarke said. "What kind of jerk would break up with someone right before Christmas, anyway?"

"The kind of jerk you always seem to end up dating," Octavia said. "Historically speaking. Why would your fake girlfriend be any different?"

"Because she's fake? And a girl?" Clarke said. She'd sworn off men after her last failure of a relationship, sworn off dating entirely, at least for a while. But she'd made the mistake of going out for happy hour with her coworkers only once, not long after she started, and when one of her male coworkers had asked her while standing just a little too close if she was in a relationship, she'd told him yes, she had a _girlfriend_... and so the lie had been born. 

"I'll figure it out," Clarke said, wanting to drop the subject. "Now when we get back, who's in charge of the lights?"

* * *

Clarke's hands shook as she picked up her phone, even though she had no reason to be nervous. Or not no reason, but little reason. She didn't have anything to lose by just asking. She quickly typed out her message and hit Send before she could second guess herself, then turned her phone face down so she wouldn't obsessively stare at the screen. A watched phone never rang, or something like that.

A minute later her phone buzzed and she snatched it up, her heart in her throat.

 **Clarke:** Would you want to come to my company holiday party with me next weekend and be my fake girlfriend?

 **Lexa:** For real?

 **Lexa:** Lincoln said you were joking. 

Clarke swallowed. _Was_ she serious? It was a risk, asking Lexa out on a date... even a fake one. Because of that one night, years ago now, when they'd both had a little too much to drink and they'd found themselves suddenly alone together, and if Clarke hadn't gotten a text at exactly the wrong (or maybe right) moment she wasn't sure what would have happened next. 

She still thought about that night sometimes, and what if.

 **Clarke:** I'm like... 93% serious

Three dots, a pause, and then:

 **Lexa:** Can I wear a suit? 

Clarke laughed. 

**Clarke:** Yes you can wear a suit. You can wear whatever you want.

Was Lexa actually considering it? They were friends, but they only ever hung out together with other people. Spending a whole evening together, just the two of them... and everyone that worked at Clarke's company... was a big ask. 

But if she was willing...

 **Clarke:** For real though? Because I'm down if you are. Free dinner!

 **Lexa:** Yeah I'm down. Can you watch my dog the following weekend? Stupid family shit I can't get out of and my stepmother is "allergic".

 **Clarke:** Yeah sure

 **Clarke:** It's Saturday. Pick you up at 6?

 **Lexa:** No way! I'll pick YOU up. 

**Clarke:** If it makes you happy

 **Lexa:** It does. See you then 😘

 **Clarke:** See you

She tossed her phone down, sprawling back on the couch like she'd just run five miles and needed to catch her breath.

* * *

There was a knock on Clarke's door promptly at six on Saturday, and her stomach did a little flip as she rushed to open it. 

"Oh wow," they both said at the same time, looking each other up and down, and then laughed and couldn't quite meet each other's eyes. 

"You look amazing," Lexa said, recovering more quickly than Clarke, whose brain was still trying to wrap itself around the reality of Lexa in a suit. It wasn't quite a tux, but it was fancier than what the men at work wore when they had to attend an important meeting, and it wasn't cut for a woman, but she still managed to look unmistakably, irresistibly _female_ in it. Like somehow it managed to both conceal and accentuate the shape of her...

"I didn't expect you to go that hard," Clarke blurted, and felt heat rising to her cheeks a second later. 

Lexa laughed. "You said I could wear a suit!" she reminded Clarke. 

"I know. I just... suddenly feel underdressed." Clarke looked down at herself in the standard little black dress she was pretty sure she'd last worn to a funeral and wished she'd put in a little more effort. She hadn't wanted to look like she was trying too hard, or taking this too seriously, but now...

"I can wait if you want to change?" It came out a question, accompanied by a frown that creased Lexa's brow. "Not that I think you need to. I meant it when I said you look amazing. But if you want to—" Lexa shrugged, and Clarke wasn't used to seeing her squirm. In all the years they'd known each other, Lexa had always been unfazed by everything, unflappable. Now she seemed, well, flapped. 

Clarke did a quick mental inventory of her closet, searching for something that might make her feel like she deserved a place on Lexa's arm that she could change into quickly. She finally stopped on a dress she'd bought but never worn, because she'd planned to wear it to the anniversary dinner with her ex that had never happened because he'd broken up with her three days before. 

"Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked. 

Lexa smiled. "I'm sure," she said. "Actually, do you have a lint roller I can borrow? I could swear I got all the dog hair off me before I left the house, but I think it's infiltrated my car. We might need to put towels over the seats." 

Clarke ducked into her room and grabbed the glorified roll of masking tape from her dresser and tossed it to Lexa. "Be right out," she said, and closed the door, diving into her closet to retrieve the dress she was now grateful she'd never gotten around to getting rid of. 

She changed quickly, decided the shoes she was wearing still worked, and did a quick touch-up to her make-up, turning up the volume of it from 'oh look, she put on some lipstick' to 'is that _Clarke_?' 

When she emerged again, Lexa looked up and let out a soft whistle. "Okay, what's the next step up from amazing?" she asked. "No, three steps up. Drop-dead gorgeous?"

Clarke flushed again. "Don't you dare," she said. "I don't think they give bereavement time for the death of fake girlfriends." 

Lexa grinned. "Noted," she said. She held out her arm, elbow crooked. "Are we ready?"

* * *

They arrived at the party just late enough to not feel like they were early. There were enough people already there, mingling and picking at canapes from a buffet, that they were able to walk in without drawing too much attention, just a few polite smiles and obligatory small talk greetings before they and their conversational partners went their separate ways. 

"This is so much nicer than my office party," Lexa said, leaning in close enough that her breath tickled Clarke's ear, sending goosebumps racing down her arm. "We got a quote-unquote catered lunch in those big disposable trays, and the entire place smelled like Sterno for days afterward." She wrinkled her nose... and how had Clarke never noticed the faint smattering of freckles that dusted it before? "The cookies were good, though. But they had someone standing at the door to the conference room where they'd set the food up, watching to see how many times you went in and how much you took." She rolled her eyes.

"No one's watching us now," Clarke said. "Quick, let's fill my purse with pigs in a blanket and mini quiche." 

Lexa laughed, her free hand crossing over her body to brush Clarke's fingers where they still rested in the bend of her elbow. "Only if we can sneak out to the car to empty it so we can refill it when dessert rolls around," she said. 

Clarke grinned. "Deal."

The party ended up not being nearly as bad as Clarke had imagined, but she was sure it would have been worse than she'd feared if Lexa wasn't at her side the entire time, falling into the role of fake girlfriend with such ease there were a few moments when Clarke forgot, just for a second, that they weren’t actually dating. It might have been unnerving, how easily Lexa could make up details about a job she didn't have and a relationship that didn't exist, if it didn't keep the conversational wheels greased, and buy Clarke weeks – if not months – of goodwill from her coworkers. After all, how could they blame her for wanting to skip out on after work socialization to spend time with her girlfriend when said girlfriend was so damned _charming_?

It didn't hurt that the food was good, the drinks were neither overpriced nor watered down (but they weren't stupid enough to have an open bar, which was just a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen), and whoever was in charge of the playlist had managed to strike a good balance between holiday classics and inoffensive pop music that had people bopping to the beat, even if the population of the dance floor (really a glorified span of floor that lacked tables) remained a bit sparse. 

When they finally put out the desserts, they looked them over and decided 'why choose?' and grabbed one of each to share. Which was probably more sugar than either of them needed, but Clarke couldn't (and didn't want to) say no to Lexa when her eyes lit up like, well, a kid on Christmas. As they polished off the last few bites, their stomachs groaning slightly but their tastebuds dancing with delight, Lexa smiled at Clarke, her eyes sparkling like the bubbles in the champagne they'd all toasted with earlier in the evening. 

"I think it's safe to slip out," Clarke said. "If you're ready." 

"Up to you," Lexa said. "It's your party."

Clarke looked around and saw there was a steady trickle of people gathering their coats and heading for the door. "Let's go." 

Lexa stood up and offered Clarke her arm again, and Clarke couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much physical contact with someone. The easy affection Lexa had demonstrated all night had felt so natural that Clarke had found herself leaning into it, soaking it up like the touch-starved spinster she was. Her only regret, she thought as Lexa helped her slip on her coat, was that it had to end. 

They drove home in comfortable silence, the only sound the soft strains of Christmas carols coming from the car speakers. Every once in a while Clarke would look over at Lexa, and a few times she caught Lexa glancing back. Each time, the corner of Lexa's mouth curved up, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. 

"You can just—" Clarke started to say when they pulled up in front of her house and Lexa reached for her seatbelt, but stopped when it was clear Lexa was going to walk her to the door whether Clarke needed her to or not. So she stayed where she was, letting Lexa come around and open her door for her, offering her a hand up. At the door, they turned and faced each other, and for the first time since Lexa turned up, things felt a little awkward, and Clarke struggled to meet Lexa's eyes.

"Thank you," she said. "Again. For doing this. I actually had a really good time."

"Me too," Lexa said. "And thanks for watching Pichu next weekend. I'll text you tomorrow or whenever so we can figure out the details."

Clarke nodded. "Yeah, okay." 

For a second they just stared at each other, not sure what to do, what was supposed to happen next. Clarke extended her arms, just a little, and Lexa did the same, and they sort of shuffled into each other, only relaxing when their arms closed in a proper embrace. When they pulled apart, Clarke tried to kiss Lexa's cheek – that was a thing people did, right? – but Lexa pulled away a little faster than she'd expected and she caught the corner of her mouth instead. 

A jolt went straight down her spine, and maybe down Lexa's, too, from the way they both stood there, dumbstruck, for a minute before stepping back. 

"Have a good night," Lexa said, again gathering herself more quickly than Clarke. 

"You too," Clarke said. She unlocked her door as Lexa went back to her car, and waved from the doorway as she pulled away and disappeared. 

"Fuck," Clarke groaned, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. "Octavia, this is all your fault."

* * *

Clarke's heart leapt into her throat when she heard keys jingling and the door opening, and Pichu leapt down from the couch (where he technically wasn't supposed to be, but Clarke had put down a towel to catch the hair) and rushed toward it, tail wagging. 

"Hey there pal!" Lexa said. "Did you miss me?"

Pichu whined and his nails clicked on the floor as he spun around in his 'OMG OMG OMG A PERSON YAY A PERSON I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO BE ALONE FOREVER OMG' dance. 

As if Clarke hadn't been spending hours there every day, walking him and playing with him and brushing him and loafing on the couch with him (and shit, guess she wasn't going to get to wash the evidence of their transgressions before Lexa got home after all). Which Lexa had said she was okay with. She'd also said she was okay with Clarke bringing Pichu to her place, or Clarke staying over if she came to feed and walk him in the evening and decided it wasn't worth leaving just to have to get up early the next morning to do it all over again. 

Clarke got up and quickly folded the towel, looking for somewhere to hide it, when Lexa came into the room and let out a little yelp of surprise. "Sorry!" Clarke said, gripping the towel, now guilty on multiple accounts. "Sorry, I should have called out so you knew I was here." 

Lexa shook it off with a nervous laugh. "No worries," she said. "From the way this one was carrying on, I assumed he'd been alone for _days_ and _days_." She smiled affectionately down at the dog, who was gazing adoringly back up at her... or maybe begging for treats. She rolled her eyes and rubbed his ears. "Laying it on a bit thick, don't you think?" she teased, then went and got the box of treats from the cabinet. She broke a little biscuit in half and put it on his nose. "Wait..." she said, and then, "Okay!" and he tossed his head and caught the biscuit in his mouth, crunching happily. "Completely useless," she said, flashing a crooked smile, "but a fun party trick." 

"I thought you weren't home until tomorrow," Clarke said. 

"I wasn't supposed to be," Lexa said. "But there's only so much family togetherness I can take. I love them... most of them... but... I love them more when they're two hours away." 

Clarke smiled. "Yeah, I get that," she said. "What did you tell them? To get them to let you leave." 

Lexa laughed again, and Clarke thought she might even be blushing, just a little. "I may have told them I have a girlfriend who got stuck working on Christmas, and I wanted to get home so we could at least spend a little bit of the holiday together..." she admitted. 

"Whatever works, right?" Clarke asked. "While we're on the subject of embroidering the truth... if Pichu tells you I let him on the couch, he's lying." She hid the towel she was clutching behind her back. 

Lexa gave Pichu – who had looked up at the sound of his name – a stern look. "Pichu... why would you try to get Clarke in trouble like that?" she asked, then grinned. "It's okay," she said. "We can make an exception, just this once. It _is_ Christmas, after all." 

Clarke nodded. "I guess I should get out of your way then," she said. "Let you settle in, recover from the drive and the family drama and—"

"You don't have to," Lexa said. "The thing is... it wasn't so much that I wanted to get away from my family as I, uh..." She looked down, cleared her throat. "I kind of wanted to get back to... to you." 

Clarke's head snapped up, blinking in surprise as Lexa's eyes met hers. "... What do you mean?"

"I know it was – is – fake. The girlfriend thing. But the truth is I haven't enjoyed spending time with someone like that in a really long time, and I guess there was a little part of me that wondered, well, what if?" 

"What if...?" Because none of this was making sense. Clarke had to be hearing her wrong, or misunderstanding, or jumping to conclusions that were not even remotely what Lexa was saying, or implying, or...

"What if it wasn't. Fake. What if you really did have a girlfriend who... well, I work pretty normal hours, but..." 

"Are you... asking? Or offering, or...?"

The flush of Lexa's cheeks had bled out to her ears and down her neck, and her hands were clenched in fists at her sides as she tried and failed to still their shaking. "Yes?" She sucked in a breath and straightened her shoulders. "Yes. I'm asking. Do you want to consider your Christmas party our first date?"

"Do you want to order Chinese and watch movies on the couch with the dog for our second?" Clarke countered. 

A slow smile crept across Lexa's face. "We'll discuss the dog. Otherwise, yes. Yes, I would love to order Chinese and watch movies for our second date. But first we need to end our first date properly." 

"How do we do that?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa held out her arms, and Clarke dropped the towel and stepped into them, melting into the embrace like she hadn't allowed herself to after the party. And this time when they eased apart it was no accident when their mouths met, their lips parting ever-so-slightly to find how they fit together best. 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Lexa said, her forehead resting against Clarke's temple. 

"I think I might," Clarke said. 

Lexa nodded, her eyes closed, and kissed her again, soft and sweet and slow, because they had all the time in the world to make up for all the time they'd lost. Starting now.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, happy Friday to those who don't, and happy Boxing Day to anyone in a time zone so far ahead of me that Christmas is already over. 😊


End file.
